


Where the Sky meets the Sea

by HidingintheInkwell



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Homecoming, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingintheInkwell/pseuds/HidingintheInkwell
Summary: Danny stood at the tideline, sand worn smooth as sugar beneath his feet, gaze out toward the endless stretch of blue, so perfect and cloudless that he entertained the idea that there was no horizon, it was all just endless, endless ocean. No land other than that which he stood on, just ocean. At least, that’s what it felt like. It had been nearly a year, nearly a year since their quiet evening celebrating his daughter’s birthday had been interrupted by the ringing of a phone.





	Where the Sky meets the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because I was stuck on five others. 0.0

Danny stood at the tideline, sand worn smooth as sugar beneath his feet, gaze out toward the endless stretch of blue, so perfect and cloudless that he entertained the idea that there was no horizon, it was all just endless, endless ocean. No land other than that which he stood on, just ocean. At least, that’s what it felt like. It had been nearly a year, nearly a year since their quiet evening celebrating his daughter’s birthday had been interrupted by the ringing of a phone. He wondered, sometimes, late at night as he listened to the sound of the waves outside his window when he couldn’t sleep because what he really longed to hear was thousands of miles away, on a different beach, a beach soaked in blood… He wondered what would have happened if they’d never picked up the phone. Just let it ring it’s way straight to voicemail while they watched the dark haired teenager blow out her candles. If Steve had not handed the camera off to Danny to continue filming for him in order to go in and answer it. 

 

They’d called him off reserves for a special mission, Black Ops with so much tape that it left Danny’s head spinning. It should have only taken two months. Two months to go in, do what needed to be done, and come home. That had been ten months ago. Three months ago, Danny had gotten a much too brief phone call from Steve, apologizing for not being able to tell him anything, assuring him he was safe, and promising he’d be home soon. He’d not heard anything since. For all he knew, Steve could be dead. If he was being honest with himself, that was part of the reason he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the brunet had shipped out. The nights he slept were plagued with nightmares, of Steve coming home damaged, not wanting anything to do with him because of what he’d seen during the mission or things that had happened to him, like the people he was hunting had removed the part of his brain that cared about anyone. Nightmares of Steve never coming home at all, body lost in some jungle, just like his old Navy Buddy, lost for two years in the jungles of North Korea. Steve’s decomposing body crying out from the wild for Danny to find him, to bring him home like he’d done countless times, but Danny was too lost, too far away, would never be able to find him. The worst ones came from Danny’s deepest fears, that Steve would have moved on, finding himself someone overseas, or going back to Catherine; realizing he didn’t want Danny and all the baggage the blond came with, that the silver wedding ring he wore to match the one Danny never took off would be replaced, sold to buy the diamond ring for the woman he chose over Danny. 

It was those nightmares more than any of the others that had Danny waking in tears, sheets tangled around his feet as the smell of some foreign woman’s perfume wafted through the bedroom as though they’d just been there, Steve’s earnest face looking at him in pity as he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist the way he’d always done to Danny. On nights he had Grace and Charlie, they’d come and crawl into bed with him, awakened by his broken sobs and pleas. He always felt guilty when that happened, angry with himself that he couldn’t hold himself together for his kids, but Grace would always give him a look that he’d swear to his dying day she learned from Steve and curl up against him, head against his shoulder before whispering a quiet “he’s never going to leave you, Danno” before drifting back off to sleep. Danny would continue to lay awake, listening to his children’s quiet breaths as he fought to quiet his brain and join them in slumber, hoping their presence would bring the happier memories.

 

The breeze had picked up, combing through his product free hair and whipping the loose cotton shirt and trousers he wore around his frame. Rachel had taken the kids to the mainland to visit Stan this week, leaving Danny to fend off his nightmares alone. Last night had been Dead Steve again, his bloody, beaten, decomposing form lying at the bottom of a cliff, impaled on a bamboo shoot. He didn’t move at first, but then his body had started convulsing around the woody plant, heaving gobs of blackened, congealed blood through bloated lips as choked gasps escaped a throat that had been partially ripped out by some wild animal. “D--D--a--nny… Da--anny he--elp me… please, help me…” Tears were streaming down Danny’s face as he watched his husband struggle, eyes bloodshot and bulging from their sockets in the moist environment. “Danny, help me!  _ Danny _ !” The blond had woken in tears, choking on his own bile as he rushed to the bathroom, barely getting the seat up before his stomach was emptying it’s meager contents from the dinner he’d just barely managed to down last night. Contents emptied, he continued to heave, muscles cramping with the force and face wet with tears and snot and spit as he fought to breathe, throat burning from the acidic abuse and mind filled with the stills of the nightmare. Having been a cop for so long, there was no short in nightmare fuel. 

 

When he’d finally managed to calm himself down, he’d washed his face, donned a fresh pair of pajamas, and made his way to the private beach he often complained about but secretly loved. Here there were happy memories, drinking longboards in the dying light after a day gone well, watching Steve splash in the waves with Charlie, teaching Gracie how to surf, waking up to catch the tall brunet during his morning swim, the bright early light glinting off wet skin, painting him gold like an ancient statue; his own private Adonis. He breathed deep, the smell of ocean salt and hibiscus and pineapples. The sun had long since curved, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange and purple before dissolving into a deep shade of spotless blue. 

 

Waves lapped at his toes, seafoam quickly soaking the hem of his pantlegs. He knew he needed to move, needed to go get breakfast started, do  _ something.  _ It was a Saturday, he wasn’t on call and could in theory do whatever he wanted. Only he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move again. He felt rooted in place, like one of those godforsaken palm trees. He wanted the tide to come in and take him with it when it left, far out to sea. Maybe he’d drown, maybe he’d wash up on some distant, unknown shore, or maybe it would carry him to the same bloodsoaked beaches that held Steve captive, so far away from those who needed him. He closed his eyes against the bright, bright sun, eyelids burning red but he didn’t care. He imagined he could fly, high above the ocean and the volcanoes and landmasses, away from everything and everyone until he found just who he was looking for. He’d swoop down, scooping him up in his arms and take to the skies again, leaving everything behind until there was nothing left but the two of them. 

 

He was so wrapped up in his dream, practically feeling his feet lifting from the sandy shore, that he didn’t hear the soft  _ click _ of a door, the near silent crunch of boots across the lawn, quickly followed by  _ shff _ of sand parting under feet. He did register the smell, musky and metallic, like aged gunpowder and sweat, followed by a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist. Danny froze, barely even daring to breathe for fear that this was in his head, and if he so much as twitched, it would all dissolve and he’d be alone on his beach again. “Steve…?” he dared to ask, voice timid, not even daring to shift his eyes from their horizon focal point despite how much he wanted to. The heat pressed close, and he could feel every press of muscle and zipper and button against his back. A cold nose pressed behind his ear followed by the light press of lips. “Hi, Danno, I’m home…” 

 

Danny’s control snapped and he was spinning, breaking free of the arms in order to step back, taking in every detail, assuring himself that what he was seeing was real, solid, and in one piece. 

 

Steve stood at ease, bare toes digging into the sand and the cuffs of his fatigues rolled up to keep the sand out. Muscular arms crossed behind his back, his hair was a little shaggier, but he was clean shaven. There was a small scar on his chin that hadn’t been there before he left, but at the moment Danny couldn’t have cared less. Steve was here. Steve was  _ home _ … Eyes burning, Danny threw himself at the taller man, who caught him with a practiced ease that seemed instinctual even after so long apart. Danny found himself lifted from the sand, supported fully by those oh so familiar arms that he’d seen do everything from knock a bad guy out cold with one swing to cradling Charlie when he fell asleep during a movie. He pressed his face into the blue shaded fabric, breathing deep, feeling the cold nose bury into his hair. “God I missed you,” the brunet whispered, pressing his lips to Danny’s forehead. 

 

The fabric beneath the blond’s face was growing damp, but he didn’t care, instead wrapping his legs around narrow hips and pulling back far enough to be able to meet forest green eyes that seemed to reflect everything he was feeling. “Did you finish your mission? How did you get here? Why didn’t you call?” All those questions were met with that brilliant, oh so cocky smile. “Yes the mission is finished, we caught our guy and he’s now being escorted to a Serbian prison. I caught the first plane I could outta there and caught a taxi home. I checked the house first, but when you weren’t there I figured you were probably out here.”

 

Danny couldn’t believe his ears, there were so many questions, but right now none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except him and his SEAL and the sand between their toes while the sea stretched out behind them, meeting the sky in an endless plane of blue.

  
  
  



End file.
